


Your Emergency

by shanahane



Series: The world where Bruce went to therapy [8]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU, Nightwing (Comics), Teen Titans - All Media Types, Young Justice - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bad Parent Talia al Ghul, Bad Parents Jack and Janet Drake, Batbrothers (DCU), Batfamily (DCU), Bruce Wayne is a Good Parent, Bruce went to therapy instead of becoming Batman, Child Abandonment, Dick Grayson Needs a Hug, Dick Grayson is a Good Brother, Drama, Family, alternative universe - no capes, no beta we die like jason
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-11
Updated: 2021-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-18 05:28:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29978070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shanahane/pseuds/shanahane
Summary: It was a surprise (and to some, a relief) to everyone when Dick declared he’d become a 911 operator.During the years, Dick answers plenty of calls that alter his worldview or make him rethink his priorities. But at the end of the day, he goes home, and his life is still the same as it was before his shift started.Sometimes, however, the call ends up changing his life.ORHow Dick meets his three brothers by answering their 911 calls.
Relationships: Dick Grayson & Damian Wayne, Dick Grayson & Jason Todd, Tim Drake & Dick Grayson, Tim Drake & Dick Grayson & Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne & Damian Wayne
Series: The world where Bruce went to therapy [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2096913
Comments: 63
Kudos: 406





	Your Emergency

**Author's Note:**

> First of all: I apologize for the inaccuracies I am sure this fic is flooded with. I am only familiar with how the emergency services operate where I live and my knowledge of American emergency services is based on TV dramas (that I am sure are like documentaries, right?) But this is a piece of fanFICTION so please let it slide and just enjoy? 
> 
> Second of all: THANK YOU to all emergency call center operatives! Whether it's 911, 112, 999, or something else, I salute you!
> 
> Also, I didn't use italics because I am lazy. 
> 
> WARNINGS FOR:  
> Language  
> Discussion of blood  
> Discussion of a major emergency  
> Brief mention of attempted suicide (unnamed off-screen character)  
> Spelling and grammatical errors (I am TIRED)

No one, ever, would have guessed Dick would take a job that requires him to sit still for 10 to 12 hours per shift. 

Granted, the call center does have adjustable tables so he can at least stand and bounce when he gets restless. However, it was a surprise (and to some, a relief) to everyone when Dick declared he’d become a 911 operator. 

It’s a surprising choice of career from him, that’s for sure. What’s even more surprising is how it ends up changing his life. 

Dick’s been working without supervision for 8 weeks when he gets his first life-altering call. He’s still coming down from the high of his first on-the-phone delivery when he picks it up, so it’s possible his voice is a little too perky when he says: 

“911, what’s your emergency?”

“A car attacked my neighbor.” 

Dick registers two things at once: 1) The caller is a child and 2) ...what?

“I’m sorry, do you mean someone ran over your neighbor with a car?”

“No, I mean I think the car attacked him,” the child insists, annoyed.

“Okay, uh… What’s your name?”

“Jason.”

“Hi, Jason. My name is Dick. Can you explain to me exactly what happened?”

“Well, there’s this really fancy car on our alley. Like, it’s ridiculous, it looks like a space car or something. I wanted to check if I could take its hubcaps or whatever but I figured a car like that can probably call the police on its own. My neighbor didn’t care, he tried to open the trunk. It didn’t open so he tried with a crowbar and it just sort of… popped open really hard and hit him in the head. He fell and didn’t get up.”

“Okay, thank you, Jason. I’ve tracked your cell phone’s location to Crime Alley. Can you confirm that’s where you are?” 

“It’s not my phone, it’s his,” Jason mumbles. “But yeah.”

“All right, good. Now, Jason, stay on the line with me until the ambulance arrives, okay? What’s your neighbor’s name?”

“I don’t know. His wife calls him a fucking bastard.” 

“Well, do you know if the fu… he’s still breathing?” 

“I guess. He’s awake, sort of. He’s bleeding pretty bad, though.”

“From his head?” 

“Yeah.”

“Head wounds tend to bleed pretty heavily. I know it must look scary but if your neighbor is awake, there’s a good chance he’ll be fine,” Dick says. 

Jason huffs. “I’m not afraid. I’ve seen blood before.” 

_Right._ “How old are you?”

“What’s it to you?” 

“Just making conversation while we wait for the paramedics.” 

“I’m 11.”

“Shouldn’t you be in school, young man?” 

“Don’t got nobody around to care if I go or not.” 

“What about your parents?”

Jason doesn’t reply right away. For a moment, Dick is sure he’s going to hang up. Then, his tone low and defensive, Jason says: “Mom’s too dead to care.” 

“Oh. I’m sorry, Jason.” 

“She’s probably better off now. She wasn’t happy.” 

Dick has to put in some effort to keep his voice steady when he asks: “And your dad?” 

“Not around.” 

“So who takes care of you?”

“I can take care of myself!” 

“I’m sure you can, but…” 

“What the hell?” 

After his shift is over, Dick will wonder how he didn’t immediately realize who would leave a fancy space car unsupervised in Crime Alley. At that moment, though, he’s just utterly surprised to suddenly hear Bruce’s voice through the phone. 

“There’s an adult here now,” Jason tells him. “The owner, I guess. Do you want me to give him the phone?” 

“Sure, yeah.”

“So I can go?” 

“Actually!” Dick hurries to say, trying to come up with an excuse on the spot. “The paramedics might have questions for you. Don’t worry, you’re not in any trouble. But it’s really important that you stay and wait, just in case. You might save his life.” 

Jason sighs but says: “Fine” and the next thing Dick hears is a very familiar: “Hello?”

“Hey there, Bruce.”

“Dick?” 

“Yup.” 

“What’s going on? I’ve got a man here with a pretty nasty head wound and a boy who looks ready to bolt?”

“The man tried to get into your trunk. The boy called 911. The ambulance is about 5 minutes out,” Dick explains shortly. “Is the man still awake?”

“Barely. Definitely a concussion.” 

“Okay, don’t move him,” Dick says. “And Bruce, once the situation is over, I want you to take Jason out for breakfast.” 

“Jason?”

“The boy. He says his mom is dead and his dad is not in the picture. I’m not sure if he has anyone looking after him. It’s 10 am on a Tuesday and he’s not in school.”

“And you want me to…?” 

“Take him out for breakfast,” Dick repeats. “Talk to him. Find out what his situation really is.”  
  
“Bring him home?”  
  
“I didn’t say that.” 

“You’ve been an only child for 21 years and now you want a brother?” 

“Don’t sound so amused, it’s inappropriate.”

“Because there’s a concussed man bleeding out in front of me?” 

“Exactly.” 

“Well, the paramedics are here. I’ll see you on Friday?”

“As always. Can you give the phone back to Jason?” 

There’s some scuffling at the other end and then: “What?”

“I just wanted to tell you that you did a really good job. You were really brave,” Dick says.

“Whatever.” 

“No, Jason, it’s not whatever. Gotham needs heroes like you,” Dick says. “Tell you what. How about you let the car owner treat you to some pancakes?”

“What? Why? I don’t know him.”

“His name is Bruce. He’s a good guy and he… He’s helped kids like you before.”

“You mean he’s lured them into his car and had his way with them?” Jason sneers. Dick’s stomach turns. “I’m not stupid. I’m not getting in the car.”

“That’s okay! You don’t have to. Is there a place nearby where you could walk to?” Dick asks in desperation. 

“There’s a McDonald’s,” Jason answers and Dick can practically see him shrug. 

“Okay, how about you let him buy you a meal? You walk there, stay where other people can see you. It’ll be nice to spend the day with a full stomach, won’t it?” Dick says. 

“I guess.” 

“You don’t have to tell me you’ll do it. Just… Think about it, okay?”

“Sure.”

“Thank you. I have to hang up now.”

“Okay.”  
  
“Take care, Jason.”

“Whatever,” Jason says again before hanging up before Dick. 

Dick leans back on his chair and lets out a breath. He’s not due for a break for another 45 minutes and he’s already itching to text Bruce to see if Jason followed him to the McDonald’s. 

It’s sort of weird, he thinks. On his second day, he had to talk someone off the edge of a building. He’s already helped dozens to deal with gunshot or stab wounds. But somehow it’s this phone call that prompts his supervisor, Kaldur, to ask if he needs a minute. 

Dick shakes his head. “Thanks, Kal. I’m fine,” he says with a flash of a smile. 

Then he presses enter to pick another call. “911, what’s your emergency?” 

He spends the next 15 minutes helping a girl who wrecked the car she got for her 16th birthday exactly 4 days ago. Then there’s a burglary. Another car accident. A heart attack. 

By the time Dick finally gets to go on a break, he’s forgotten all about texting Bruce. So it’s not until Friday, when he arrives at the Manor for dinner, that he remembers that he never confirmed what happened with Jason. 

He’s happy to find out that Jason did indeed go with Bruce to get something to eat. And he didn’t run after they were finished. 

“It’s pretty crazy that the 911 guy is also the son of the man my neighbor tried to rob,” Jason, who’s sitting at the Manor’s dinner table, says with his mouth full of roast duck. “What are the chances?” 

“Quite small,” Dick agrees. He’s still a little dumbfounded to have found the boy sitting in his childhood kitchen, despite Bruce joking about taking him in during the call. 

“I’m starting school next week.”

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah. So I won’t be out there saving people in the middle of the day anymore.”

Bruce huffs out a chuckle. Dick smiles. “Well. Maybe when you’re older.

* * *

During the next couple of years, Dick answers plenty of calls that alter his worldview or make him rethink his priorities. But at the end of the day, he goes home, and his life is still the same as it was before his shift started. 

That is, until… 

“911, what’s your emergency?” 

“H-hello?” 

A child. A boy. 5 to 8, Dick catalogues in his head. “Hello there,” he says. “Are you okay? Do you have an emergency?”

“Um… I… I think… Someone should go check on Mrs. Mason.” 

Dick types the name to his search bar. “Who’s Mrs. Mason?” he asks when he gets 56 results. 

“She’s our housekeeper.” 

“Okay. And what’s your name?”

“Tim. Timothy Drake.” 

Wait, what?

“Tim? It’s Dick Grayson. I used to live with Bruce in Wayne Manor.”

“Oh.” 

“Is Mrs. Mason with you? Is she hurt?”

“No, I’m… alone. Mrs. Mason was supposed to bring me food yesterday but she didn’t show up. I think she might be hurt or sick.”

“Do you know what her first name is? Or where she lives? Her age?” Dick asks. 

“I think it’s Rita. She’s older than my mom but not super old. She always complains about driving here so I think she lives pretty far.” 

Dick manages to narrow down his search enough to be sure who he is looking for. “So Tim, just to confirm, Mrs. Mason has not informed your parents or you that she cannot come to your house like she's supposed to? She simply didn’t show up?”

“Well, I guess she could have told my parents but they are not here so I don’t know.” 

Dick frowns. “Where are your parents?”

“Uh… I’m not sure. I think Brazil but I don't know which city.” 

“And you’re home?”

“Yes.”

“When did your parents leave?” 

“Saturday.”

Dick almost - almost - forgets that Rita Mason might be in trouble. “Satu… Tim. You’ve been home alone for four days?”

“It’s fine. I can take care of myself,” Tim says. His tone isn’t defensive like Jason’s, he sounds like he’s merely stating a fact. “It’s just… I ran out of food last night. It’s usually no problem because I can eat at school but it’s the summer holidays so…”  
  
“Wait, Tim. They’ve left you alone before?” Dick says as he frantically dispatches officers to the Drake house while also giving the police as much information as he can about Mrs. Mason. 

“They are really important,” Tim says. “They have to travel a lot.” 

“Sure but what about a nanny?”

“They say I’m a big boy now.” 

Dick swallows. “Right, well. Listen, Tim. I’ve sent two police officers to your house. They…” 

“Am I in trouble?” 

“No, no, no!” Dick hurries to say. “I’m just worried about you, okay? You shouldn’t be all by yourself, no matter what your parents say. The officers will take you someplace safe.”  
  
“But… I don’t wanna leave home. What if my parents come home?” Tim says. 

“We’ll notify them about where you are so they know where to find you,” Dick promises. “Tim, are you in your room?” 

“I’m in the kitchen.” 

“Okay. Okay. Uh… Does your phone have a cord or can you walk around?” 

“I can walk.” 

“Good. Can you go to the living room? Don’t hang up. I’ll stay on the line with you until the police arrive. Just go to the living room to wait for them, okay? Maybe turn on the TV and watch something while you wait. Do you know how to open your front door?” 

“Yes. Mrs. Mason sometimes forgets her key.” 

“All right, well, the next time the doorbell rings it’s going to be the police. Don’t worry, they’ll be really nice. I made sure they’d send the best ones.” Dick hopes that’s true, that ‘Abandoned child, 7, been home alone for four days’ prompts them to send some of the more gentle officers. “Now, Tim. I need you to be really honest with me. Are you injured in any way? Does anything hurt?” 

“Just my tummy,” Tim says. “I’m really hungry.”

“That sucks, buddy. I’m sorry. The officers will give you something to eat, I promise,” Dick says as he adds that to the information the police will receive. “You’re not bleeding, though? No bumps or bruises?” 

“I have a bruise on my arm but it’s old,” Tim says. 

“How did you get it?” 

“Um…” 

And Dick knows how he got it, or at least who gave it to him, without Tim having to say anything else. He’s dealt with his share of violent parents over the years. His blood boils but he takes a deep, silent breath and forces himself to keep calm for Tim’s sake. 

“Tim, I know we’ve only met a couple of times and you probably don’t trust me one bit but… I want you to know that you can tell me anything.”

“...okay.” 

“Did your mom or dad hurt you?” 

Tim hiccups. Dick waits. “I broke a plate,” Tim finally says. “Daddy took me to my room. He didn’t mean it.”

“I’m sure he didn’t,” Dick says while at the same time vowing that Tim would not be returned to his parents. “Thank you for being honest with me.”

“Are my parents going to be punished? They - they are not bad people!”  
  
“I’m just here to help you, Timmy. That’s all that matters to me right now,” Dick says. “Did you turn on the TV?”

“Yeah.”

“What are you watching?” 

“...there’s a… bald kid? With an arrow on his head. And uh… a boy with a scar.”

“Hey, I know that show. It’s The Last Airbender! Have you watched it before?” Dick asks, if only to keep Tim’s mind off other things.  
  
“I don’t really watch TV,” Tim says. 

“Yeah? What do you like to do?” 

“I take pictures.”

“Of what?”

“The city. People. When my parents are away, I don’t always take the school bus home. I stay in Gotham with my camera.”

Dick’s mind immediately jumps to all sorts of things that could happen to a child that small in a city like Gotham - in any city, really. “How do you get home, then?” 

“I catch the public bus.”

“...Tim? The closest stop to your house is almost 2 miles away.”

“It’s fine. I like walking.” 

“When do you do your homework?” 

“I have time.” 

“...if you say so.” 

Dick keeps up a light conversation until he hears the faint sound of a doorbell. He hears Tim take in a sharp breath and then a quiet whimper. 

“Tim, buddy. It’s okay. Go open the door,” Dick says. 

“Will they take me to jail?” 

“No, of course not. I told you, you’re not in any trouble. We all just want to help you and make sure you’re safe. Okay?”

“Okay. Do I hang up?”

“Not yet. Go on, go open the door.”

A moment later, Dick hears a ‘click’ and a small grunt as Tim yanks the door open. He lets out a relieved but a surprised breath when he recognizes Jim Gordon’s voice: “Timothy Drake?” 

“Yes, sir.” 

“Don’t be scared, lad. We were told you are here all alone. Is that true?” 

“Yes, but… I’m… I’m okay. I’m just hungry.”

“I’m sure you are, bud. Can you give me the phone?”

“Oh. Okay. Bye, Dick,” Tim says and before Dick can reply, Jim’s already telling him: “We got it from here, Dick.” 

“You got there fast,” Dick comments. 

“I was at the Manor.” 

Dick wants to ask why but that’s not the point of this call so he swallows his curiosity. “That was lucky. Take good care of the kid, Jim.”

“Of course. Bye.”

“Bye.” 

After ending the call and quickly making sure there’s nothing on queue, Dick takes off his headset and leans back on his chair. 

“You okay?”

Dick flashes Artemis, their newest hire, a small smile. “A child abandonment case.”

“Shit.” 

“Yeah. I’m pretty sure this one will have a happy ending, though.”

“How come?” 

“Just a hunch,” Dick says with a shrug. 

On his break, Dick texts Bruce to ‘ask Gordon about Timothy Drake.’

Four days later, he’s lounging in the Manor’s movie room watching The Last Airbender with an arm around Jason and Tim practically napping on his lap. 

(Rita Mason was fine, just completely unaware that the Drakes had left the country. She agrees to testify.)

* * *

Over the years, Gotham’s foster care goes through some dramatic changes and immense improvements, with the generous help of Wayne Enterprises and Bruce Wayne personally. It’s not that Bruce hasn’t done his best to help the overworked system after becoming aware of its state during Dick’s infamous stint at the juvie. But after officially adopting Tim, his efforts seem to double and Dick knows it's because he’s done having kids, but wants to make sure every child has the opportunity to have a stable home. 

To be honest, Dick is pretty sure Bruce was done having kids after somehow managing to raise one traumatized orphan into a somewhat functional adult and then releasing that child into the wild with a sense of accomplishment. Now, he has not one but two underage boys living under his roof again and Dick would feel guiltier about it if he wasn’t sure Bruce wasn’t utterly enjoying it. 

But. He is _done_. Dick knows that. 

The universe doesn’t. 

It’s Dick’s first call of the day. He’d been running late and his shirt is still wet from spilled milk as he puts on his headset just in time to not be scolded for tardiness. A little winded, he says: “911, what’s your emergency?” 

“I require assistance.” 

Dick frowns. It’s clear that the caller is a child, despite his proper way of speaking, and Dick’s pretty sure he’s somewhere downtown, based on the background noises. He quickly taps the keys to start zeroing in on the phone’s location. 

“What kind of assistance?” he asks. 

“I am looking for my father.” 

“You mean you’re lost?” 

“ _No_ ,” the child denies immediately. “I know perfectly well that I am in downtown Gotham,” he continues, confirming Dick’s suspicion. 

“Okay, let’s start over. What’s your name?” 

“Damian.” 

“Hi there, Damian. I’m…” Dick pauses, then says: “...Richard. How old are you?” 

“How is that relevant? Can you help me find my father or not?” 

Dick holds back a sigh. “I will certainly try but any information you give me will certainly help.” 

“-tt- I’m six.” 

“And you’re alone? Downtown?” 

“I can take care of myself!” 

Dick faintly hears echoes of two other kids telling him the same thing. 

“I don’t doubt that but Damian, have you ever been to Gotham before?” 

“No.” 

“Well, it’s a dangerous city. Are you sure your dad lives here?” 

“That’s what mother told me. She says he’s very important.”

“Why isn’t she with you?” 

“This is a test.” 

Dick’s been angry during calls before - he’s not the sort of person who can put a lid on any emotions while working. He knows how to hide it, though, so whatever he’s feeling won’t be heard through the phone. 

This time, that’s really hard. “A - a test?” 

“To see if I have learned how to use all available resources.” 

Dear sweet…  
  
“Okay, Damian, I don’t want to scare you, but I will send a police officer to…” 

“What? No! You imbecile, you promised to help me!” 

“The police will help you locate both your mother and father, but…” 

“I don’t need help locating my mother, she’s probably back in Egypt by now.” 

...Jesus and Mary and Joseph and Peter and Moses…

“Damian, how long have you been all by yourself?” 

“27 hours and 34 minutes.” 

Dick has to close his eyes. “I’m sorry, Damian, but I…” 

“If a police comes near me, I’ll hang up and run.” 

Dick believes him. His heart is hammering in his chest with anger and anxiousness and he prays to all the higher powers he can think of that he’s making the right call when he says: “Okay, Damian. You win. I won’t send an officer to find you…” _For now_. “...and I will do my best to help you.” 

“Hmph.” 

“Have you ever met him?” 

“Mother says he doesn’t know I exist.” 

Ouch. 

“And what’s your mother’s name?” 

“Talia.” 

The whole world comes to a screeching halt. 

No. 

No freaking way. 

It cannot be. 

“...last name?” 

“al Ghul.” 

Holy shit. 

Quickly, quietly, Dick does the math in his head and concludes that it checks out. He had not expected this phone call to end with Damian finding his father at all, and now he’s 99,8% sure that he’s talking to _Bruce’s biological son_. 

(“Honestly,” Wally will say later. “This is just freaky. How are you _always_ the one who picks up these calls?”)

“Hello?” 

“Sorry,” Dick squeaks out, then clears his throat. “Sorry, I was trying to find information on your mother, to get some clues.” 

“-tt-” 

“Uh… Damian, can you see a big, obnoxious skyscraper from where you’re standing?” 

“Which one?” 

“The one that has a big W on it?”

“Yes.” 

“Great. That’s great. I want you to walk there, go to the reception and give the receptionist the phone so I can talk to them,” Dick says. 

“I am capable of speaking for myself,” Damian huffs. 

“Yes but we’re trying to convince someone very important to come downstairs from his office and the receptionist might not be inclined to believe you,” Dick says. “I know all of them personally so they’ll do it for me.” 

“I will have you know that my grandfather is _very_ important! I will not stand for peasants to deny me my demands.”

How was this kid _raised_? 

“Are you there?” Dick asks instead of voicing his thoughts. 

“I am about to enter.” 

“Good. The reception is on the right.” 

“I can _read_.”

“All right, well, go there and give the phone to the receptionist.” 

From what Dick hears through the speaker, Damian passes a queue without any apology. Then, he hears him say: “I demand that you speak with the person on this phone.” 

“...oh my!” Dick raises his eyebrows at the exclamation, as it sounds more surprised than affronted. “Um, hello? To whom am I speaking?” 

“Hi, Maggie,” Dick says, recognizing the woman’s accent. “It’s Dick Grayson.” 

“Dickie! How delightful!” 

Yeah. She was always a little unique. 

“The pleasure is all mine. Maggie, dear, I need you to do me a favor.” 

“Anything, dear.” 

“Can you call Bruce to come down to the lobby?” 

“To pick up his son, you mean?” 

“...how did you…?” 

“I must say, I’m surprised he managed to keep him a secret this long, with all the paparazzi always looking for a story. And the resemblance is… it’s astounding! This dear is just like Bruce when he was that age! Why, he looks like little Bruce with a tan,” Maggie says and it’s clear that she’s smiling. 

“Right, uh… Well. Yeah. If you could just tell Bruce to come down, please? And give the phone back to the kid.” 

“Of course. You have a good day! And do come by soon, we miss you!” 

“Sure thing,” Dick replies with fake enthusiasm and is honestly relieved to hear Damian again, even though the boy is less than amused. 

“You still there?” 

“Yeah, I am,” Dick confirms. “Just wait there.” 

“You think I am the son of this Bruce person?”

“Oh, uh…” _Shit_. “It’s… Possible.” 

“That’s good. It means I have passed my test. Mother will be pleased.”  
  
 _Were it up to me, your mother would never see you again_ , Dick thinks but obviously does not say so out loud. “That’s good to hear,” he forces out. 

“I think I see him.” 

“Oh?” 

“I thought he’d be taller.” 

Dick almost laughs. Almost. 

He hears Bruce’s uncertain: “...Maggie?” and Damian confidently declaring: “Richard says you’re my father.” 

Dick had not exactly said that but Damian has apparently decided that ‘possible’ means ‘certainly’.

“Richard?” Bruce repeats. 

“The person on the phone with me.” 

“Right. Uh. Can I have that?” Bruce’s voice is just short of panic when he asks: “What the hell?” 

“Congratulations! It’s a boy!” Dick weakly cheers into the phone. “His name is Damian al Ghul. He’s Talia’s son.” 

“But… that’s…” 

“I’ll come to the Manor after my shift, okay? Take the kid home, confirm he’s yours. Then do whatever it takes to make sure Talia doesn’t get her hands on him.”

“You sound angry.” 

“Ask him what happened and you’ll be angry, too,” Dick says. “I’m leaving him in your care.” 

“He wants the phone back.” 

“All right. I’ll tell him to go with you.” 

And so he does, also telling Damian that they will meet face to face soon because “I actually know Bruce”. Damian nearly manages to sound like he doesn’t care but there is a hint of relief in his voice which Dick probably would not have heard had he not become an expert in hearing hidden emotions in Jason’s voice. 

He actually gets up and leaves his station after he hangs up. His team’s eyes follow him as he hurries to the restroom to splash his face with cold water. He takes a few, deep breaths through his nose before going back, slumping down heavily. 

Wally brings him a bottle of water and Conner gives him pat on the back. Calls from children, while depressingly common in Gotham, always leave the operator drained. This one, the Team agrees, is one of the more unsettling ones. 

Dick probably breaks a few laws as he drives to the Manor in the evening. Tim and Jason meet him in the hall with identical ‘WHAT THE FUCK??’ faces on and together start asking a million and one questions that Dick doesn’t know answers to. The three of them make their way to the living room where they find Alfred offering a small boy - Damian - a cup of tea. 

Maggie had not been wrong. 

The resemblance _is_ astounding. 

“Richard?” Damian says. 

Dick blinks and shakes his head. “Yes.” 

“I thank you for your assistance.” 

Dick really, really wants to hug him. 

He settles on an awkward nod, and a silent vow to give this boy back some of his stolen childhood. 

* * *

Dick’s happy he doesn’t find out Damian’s grandfather is behind the attack until days after the emergency. It would have made the already disastrous day into more of a nightmare than it already - literally - was. 

The fear gas that poisons Gotham’s air causes the emergency phone lines to flood with incoherent calls from all over the city. Dick was already working overtime when the calls started and then all of a sudden the peaceful (by Gotham’s standards) Thursday night turns into the worst shift of the Team’s lives. 

They can’t get any reinforcements. Even those on their way to take over from the day shift have now shown up due to being affected by the gas or, if they are lucky, staying indoors to avoid it. To say they are all drained would be the understatement of the year. After listening to yet another call where someone gets murdered because they are mistaken for a disfigured, demonic creature, Dick is all but ready to throw his headset into the garbage because clearly, simply talking to people over the phone is not working. He powers through, they all do, until the authorities, with help from Justice League, get control of the situation. 

The calls don’t end even though the gas disappears from the air. Children are missing, people are hurt, buildings are burning, there are bodies littered in the streets, stores are broken into. Dick doesn’t even get a break to go to the restroom until finally, finally, new people start coming in and one by one, the day shift gets to leave.

It’s 2:30 AM and Dick’s been working for 18 hours by the time he steps out and hurries to his car. 

As he turns the ignition, he wonders for a moment if he should even be driving. Then he decides that it’s barely a 15-minute drive to his apartment, he can totally make it, and steps on the gas. 

He does make it, only to find out that the entrance to his apartment building is blocked by the police. He doesn’t stay to find out why but turns around and is about to call Wally to ask if he can crash but then, almost without realizing it, takes the exit to leave the city. 

When he punches in the code to open the gates of Wayne Estate, the clock reads 3:45 AM. He parks the car in front of the steps and drags himself up the stairs to the front door. The door has never felt heavier than it does then as Dick pulls it open and then attempts to close it with as little noise as possible. 

The air in the Manor is still, undisturbed. One could almost be diluted into thinking that nothing is wrong outside of it. Dick toes off his shoes and starts to tiptoe his way into his old room with soft steps. He doesn’t wake anyone up to announce his arrival but does peek into Tim’s room just because the door is slightly ajar. The boy is sprawled on his bed in deep sleep despite the glow of his laptop illuminating part of the room. Dick huffs affectionately before finally going to his own room. 

There are a few touches there that make it Dick’s room instead of a guest room that only houses Dick. It’s much cleaner than when Dick used to live there but Alfred has not touched his posters or pictures, and still even uses the brightly colored sheets Dick had picked out when he was 16. 

Bless that man, Dick thinks as he shuffles out of his jeans and dives into the bed with a heavy sigh. He’s snoring two minutes later. 

The way the sun hits his eyes tells him it has to be pretty late when he wakes up. He stretches and yawns, the previous day making his limbs heavy. Shivering slightly, he gets up and goes to the dresser where he stores some clothes. He finds an old pair of sweats and pulls them on, despite the fact that they are an inch or two short. 

He is hit with a sweet smell of Alfred’s baking as soon as he steps into the hallway. He follows it to the kitchen where he finds his family already around the table with the news playing on the small TV they have on the counter. 

“Shouldn’t you be in school?” is the first thing he asks as he sits down. 

“After that?” Jason says, nodding at the TV. “We’ll be lucky if Bruce ever lets us go back.” 

“Hm,” Dick hums and smiles at Alfred when the butler pours him a cup of coffee. “You don’t seem surprised to see me,” he says. 

“You left your door open,” Damian explains. 

“And your shoes in the vestibule,” Alfred adds. 

“Oh. Right. Sorry,” Dick yawns. 

Bruce reaches out to squeeze his shoulder. “You had a pretty rough day, huh?” 

“The nature of the job is that every day is rough,” Dick says. “Yesterday was…” 

He doesn’t finish, because he can’t find a word to accurately describe the experience. He’s so lucky, he knows, that his family does not live inside Gotham’s city limits and that he had been indoors in a highly protected building (thanks to Bruce and his paranoia that therapy had not cured) during the incident. 

But to listen to it from the outside with next to no opportunity to actually help… 

Dick shakes his head in an effort to stop his thoughts from spiraling. 

“These are all my favorites,” he realizes as he looks upon the various things Alfred brings to the table. 

“The boys all thought you deserve a proper thank you,” Bruce says. 

“But it wasn’t just…” 

“Yeah, yeah, it wasn’t just you, but you’re the one we know and love,” Jason cuts him off. 

“Besides, we’ve never properly thanked you for what you did for us,” Tim continues. 

“That is not true,” Damian denies. “I thanked him sincerely when I first met him.” 

“None of you need, or needed, to thank me,” Dick says. “But I am… touched. Whelmed, even,” he chuckles. “Thank _you_.”

“Dick, would you consider staying for a few days?” Bruce asks. “To rest.”

“Thanks, Bruce, but I can…” 

“...take care of myself.” 

Dick blinks as three young voices finish his sentence for him. Tim, Damian, and Jason all look at him with the same expression on their faces. 

“You know, the reason this family exists is that you decided to make it your mission that none of us would have to take care of ourselves ever again, even though we could,” Jason says. “So let us take care of _your_ stubborn ass for once.”

“I have prepared all your favorite movies in alphabetical order,” Damian says. 

“And I hacked into your phone to make sure no one can call you.” 

“Tim!” 

“Don’t worry, we checked with Kaldur first. You’re good for three days.” 

So Dick stays. 

He’s not sure how relaxing it is to stay under the same roof with his brothers for three days but he can’t deny he manages to forget about Thursday for a few moments here and there. The boys are determined that they spend the weekend doing what Dick wants to do. This is something they might regret when Dick puts them in costumes to act out a whole circus performance - but in the spirit of ‘thanking Dick’, they don’t say anything in protest. 

Dick doesn’t actually make them perform. In fact, he lets them change into normal clothes after taking a few pictures. He does, however, sit them down to play board games they’d usually be too restless for (Tim absolutely destroys them all in Monopoly and Jason beats their asses in Trivial Pursuit - with Damian as a surprisingly close second, considering their age difference). And they do watch his favorite movies, some of which Damian declares to be ‘abominations’. They sneak out for New York-style pizza on Saturday evening and have a sleepover that night that leaves Dick’s room in that very chaotic state he was known for as a child. 

So he doesn’t exactly rest, but he is happy for the distraction his family provides him, even when Damian and Tim argue about the values of their Monopoly properties. 

“You really make a difference, you know that?” Bruce says when the boys have all crashed on Dick’s bed after a vigorous pillow war. “Think about where they’d be had it not been you who picked up.” 

“It was a coincidence,” Dick replies as he pets his fingers through Damian’s hair. 

“Maybe. That doesn’t change the fact that you might have saved their lives.” 

Dick sighs. “Theirs, maybe. But I…”

“Even Superman can’t save everyone,” Bruce says before Dick can finish. 

“It’s just… Sometimes… I wonder if I could be doing more,” Dick says. 

“I’m sure everyone does. I do.” 

“It’s frustrating.” 

“I know,” Bruce says. “I wish I could say that one day, you’ll realize you’re doing all you can but even I’m not there yet and you’re a far better man than I am. What I can say in all honesty is that you, chum, are a true hero. Especially to these three.” 

“You’re being sappy,” Dick chuckles. 

“Yeah. I have to turn it off before I adopt another kid.” 

“Oooh, maybe a girl this time!” 

“Very funny.” 

“I think it’s like… a unique sense? When I answer a call from someone I feel would fit our gang. You know I can’t just ignore it if I get another call like that, right?” 

“Mmhm.” Bruce gets up. “Should we wake them up?”

“Nah,” Dick says. “It’s not much of a sleepover if they sleep in their own rooms.”

“Think you can sleep all piled up like that?” 

“Of course.  
  
“If you say so,” Bruce says. “Good night, chum.” 

“Night, Dad.” 

And maybe it’s a night of jabbed ribs and kicks in shins but Dick still feels surprisingly refreshed when he wakes up the next day. 

On Monday, he returns to work with a renewed sense of why he does what he does for a living. 

“911, what’s your emergency?” 

"..."

"Hello?"

"...yes. Me. Help."

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you and stay safe!


End file.
